


Arachnophilia

by HollowHeaven



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gore, Reader-Insert, Romance, Self-Insert, Violence, can we just give peter the love he deserves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowHeaven/pseuds/HollowHeaven
Summary: [Spider-Man x Reader]Prompts of our favorite web-slinging child who gets himself into more trouble than he should.Arachnophilia: the love of spiders





	1. :Introduction:

You got the need for fluff or angst? My dear friends, you have come to the right place. 

Got a request? Then comment that bad boy and I’ll get started as soon as I can!

Take note that some prompts may be self-indulgent. ;)

**Notes:**

-Any Spidey can be requested from any specific universe

-I will do anything except NSFW and M/M

-Strictly reader-inserts

-This book will be updated regularly


	2. Human Decency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »Prompt  
> When heading to the rooftop to relax after a day of work, you end up meeting Spider-Man who’s taking a break to shovel his face with food before duty calls again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be any Spider-Man you want.

Your day had been exhausting, to put it lightly.

New York was not known for being kind, and that was exactly what tested your patience throughout the day. Working at a popular coffee shop had its perks but had a bunch of downfalls too.

The morning consisted of you cleaning up spilled coffee that had dried to the floor and threatened to stick a person in their place if not taken care of. After taking care of that since none of your coworkers offered to do it, you got to work at fulfilling the obnoxious demands of the customers that flooded the building.

Okay, so that was like pretty much every morning. No big deal.

The day took a turn for the worst when a mother of three wild, rambunctious boys sauntered in, the dark circles under her eyes cratering her face. Seeing her tired face and hearing her soft voice command the children to stay still made your heart melt.

She ordered her coffee all while her boys ran around like wild animals. Not that she didn’t try to correct them. One had broken a mug, one spit at people sitting on the couches drinking their beverages, and the other continued to pull at his mother’s shirt and cry. They must have all been under the age of six, at most.

When she handed her card out to you, a forced smile curled at her lips, you push it back and tell her it’s on the house. The money would be coming out of your own paycheck but the joy that flooded her lifeless eyes was enough payment for you. It was the little things that made your day.

You watched her leave, a smile on your face, before the smile was slapped off by your boss who had seen the whole transaction. Apparently it’s wrong to be charitable. Especially since “the coffee shop isn’t a charity.”

You’d kept your mouth zipped tight while taking the scolding but had already killed him in your head three times. The rest of the day went on like normal after that. It was still exhausting, nonetheless.

When your shift ended, you picked out the best remaining pastries then sped out of there as fast as your feet could carry you. If you had stayed there a minute longer one of your coworkers would have snagged you by the collar of your shirt and forced you to do their jobs.

Now you’re trotting down the street to your apartment which is only a block away from where you work. The box of warm pastries is carefully tucked under your arm to keep people from knocking it from your arms, seeing as no one in New York watches where they’re going.

You successfully make it back to the apartment, up the elevator without it breaking down and into your lovely home space. Warmth greets you as you walk through the doors, and you take a moment to relish the quiet.

You shimmy off your jacket, kick off the shoes that made your feet ache, set your keys and phone on the counter and head for the fire escape to eat your snack on the roof and watch the sun set for the day.

Climbing the fire escape goes normally but reaching the rooftop and seeing a figure perched on the edge of the building makes you freeze. The figure is dressed in red and blue spandex and hastily shoveling a donut into their mouth.

The sight makes you snicker.

Apparently the sound that falls from your lips is loud enough for them to hear. They whip around, the white of their mask eyes wide in surprise. What makes you bellow with laughter is their nonstop prodding of the donut into their mouth despite looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“What is Spider-Man doing on my apartment rooftop scarfing down a donut like he hasn’t eaten in weeks?” You ask through your laughter.

The hero is bold colors takes the next few moments to chew up the donut in his mouth and swallow before replying. The sheepish tone of his voice causes your grin to stretch.

“I, uh...” He stammers, the slight exposed skin of his cheeks flushing an embarrassed red.

You take notice of the glaze from the donut around his mouth and the way his fingers tremble in your presence. Probably aching to pull down his mask all the way.

How cute. Spider-Man is shaking in his boots, or in this case, his spandex.

“I’m going to guess that you didn’t have enough time to eat today with all the recent criminal activity, am I right?” You question with a breathy chuckle.

You clutch the box in your hands tighter and shuffle over to sit beside him on the ledge on the building. He’s yet to reply, only watching your movements as you get comfortable beside him and exhale as the sun hits your skin. The look in your eyes as you turn to inspect him closer makes his lips purse.

“Everyone says you never shut up during your battles but it seems I have caught the spider during a bad time,” your lips curl into a smirk.

“Uhm, sorry,” he finally says, running the back of his neck.

“You’re cute,” you breathe out, watching as his posture straightens from shock.

Perhaps you were too forward?

If there was one thing you loved more than food was making superheroes flustered beyond comprehension. It was, as of now, dubbed your favorite pastime.

You open up the box and shuffle through the baked goods before taking one into your fingers and holding one out for your new masked friend to take. He eyes you wearily, the white of his eyes now narrowed at your act of kindness.

“Are you going to take it or not, bug boy?” You yawn, waving the pastry around.

His hand brushes yours when he takes the treat from your hand, although hesitantly. You smile when he accepts your offer and preen at the fact you had just made friends with Spider-Man. The Spider-Man, protector of New York.

Wait until your friends hear this.

“Why are you so nice?” He says a full sentence for the first time, still staring at you with confusion on the exposed part of his face.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You retort, eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, uh, not everyone likes Spider-Man,” he murmurs, biting into his pastry.

“Not everyone catches a ravenous Spider-Man on their rooftop downing a donut like its his lifeline,” you scoff with a playful eye roll, “You’re also human like everyone else on this earth. It’s called human decency.”

He huffs a breath through his nose and keeps silent as you both sit there to continue your before-dinner snacks and watch the bustling people below. You glance at him from the side of your eye, taking in the shape of his jaw and curve of his lips.

“Thank you for, uh, this,” he finishes up, dusting his hands and patting the crumbs off his face.

You dust off your own hands and close up the box in your lap. He pulls down the lower half of his mask and adjusts the cloth until it blends to his suit, smooth in all areas. With a hum, you stand up and press a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“No, thank you for saving New York more times that it should have been. Takes real courage to do that, especially with the backlash that’s involved,” you pull back with a soft smile and a thankful crinkle of your eyes.

He blinks, though unseen, and his cheeks begin to burn once again. This time a darker shade of red. Not like you could see it.

You spin around, box clutched to your chest and make your way for the fire escape to head back inside. Before climbing down, you crane your head back around to find him staring at you, unsure of how to process your affection.

“If you ever need some food for the go, come see me. I’ll hook you up. You know where to find me. See you later, bug boy,” you wink, and head back inside without another word.

Your form disappears back into the building and he continues to sit there, gawking at the fire escape like he was hit with the news of a loved one raising from the dead.

You were smart, pretty, and wanted to give him free food.

Who could pass up an offer like that?


	3. Inside My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »Prompt  
> How about Peter Parker (movieverse or comicverse) finding the symbiote and becoming venom :p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on Spider-Man 3 with Toby McGuire and the newest Venom movie, but not exactly either of them. 
> 
> Can be any Spidey/Peter you want.

It was desperate, controlling. Every cell of energy it drained from his mind and his body, rendering him breathless and distraught. 

It was evil. 

The ink crawls up his arms, smothering out the red and blue colors of his suit. The color of shadows is left in its wake, staining his suit the color of the midnight sky above his head, threatening to fall down and crush him where he stands. 

Whispers invaded the personal, silent space of his mind as the inky blackness consumes the last little bit of color of his mask. It seeps beneath the layer of clothing and penetrates every pore in his skin, rendering his limbs numb and unmoving. 

Following that truck was a mistake, but one he had to make. He knew it looked suspicious. Why were people trying to carry alien cargo across New York, and what would have happened if more of these things, these lifesuckers, got out of the glass cages they were confined in? 

There were so many. Five or more, all moving up against the glass as he got closer to inspect. If only the truck hadn’t hit a bump as he picked up one of the glass cases. Maybe he could have got out of there without his mind flooded with chaos. 

He could feel it sifting through every memory, every feeling, every thought and desire. All the pain he’s felt, every ounce of anger. The memories that keep him human are stripped apart and mended back together again, over and over. It was copying his DNA, feasting on the memories and inner turmoil. 

The anger is unbearable as it curls inside his chest, eating him alive from the inside-out. 

All he could do is cry out as it took over every part of him, head in his hands and screaming until his voice cracked. 

What would you do if you were in this situation? You always had your head anchored to your shoulders. Everything about you was phenomenal. How would you handle being taken over by something that came from outer space? 

You were strong. Maybe he could confide in you for help? 

No. No, he wouldn’t put you in danger, no matter how badly he wanted to hold you, kiss you, to be with you every waking moment of his life. 

He could feel it shift through the millions of memories of you, of you and him. Your relationship was splayed out for it to see, to contain, to control. 

Then it stopped. All the whispers, the pain, the fire in his skull. It goes quiet, too quiet to trust. All that remained was the suit stained the color of midnight shadows. 

Was it over? 

A voice calls out into the depths of his mind, and his skull sets aflame once more, but this time it was as if a tsunami comes crashing over his head and water runs down his lungs. His blood runs cold and the color from his face pales when his limbs begin to move on their own, blindly strolling in the direction you lived. 

Every step made it chant louder and louder, and his own tears couldn’t stop the sickening smile that curls at his lips. 

It wanted to hurt you. It wanted to kill you to hurt him in the worst way possible.

 **“Let’s go see her,”** it whispers, low and rough, echoing through his head painfully so. 

**“Let us feed on her fear and her bones.”**


	4. A Little Cheer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »Prompt  
> Oh I know! How about Peter (Tom Holland's adorkable self please) is on patrol when he sees reader about to jump off a bridge/building/equally high place and goes to talk them down only to realize he knows them, they're in his (insert class here) and he feels really bad/upset about it cause he never noticed a friend/crush was hurting so bad and then after he goes over to their house out of uniform with movies and ice cream or something

How did it come to all this, you wondered.

When did you decide enough was enough? A long time ago. It was only just now that you made the decision to let it all go, including life itself.

People never saw through your mask of smiles. They never understood - or maybe they never cared enough to ask. You tried to make your own happiness in life and turn a blind eye to the things that tore you apart the most; in the end you ended up being shredded with no one to help pick up the pieces and put you back together.

There was just you. It’s always been you.

Even now, standing on the ledge of your apartment building, it was you with only the thoughts jumbling together in your head to keep you company.

It was a last ditch effort trying to tell you parents about the self-loathing you felt in your chest. They hadn’t bashed an eyelash when you explained your depression, loneliness and constant torture that was eating you from the inside-out. That moment when they waved you off was the moment you decided it was all over.

Who cared anymore? Taking care of yourself wasn’t worth it.

Your eyes, red and pooled with tears, stare down at the concrete below. No one except a few homeless civilians were roaming about, and they wouldn’t care if you hit the pavement and splattered across their shoes.

Your hands clench above your heart, pressed to the bare skin to feel the thump against your ribcage. That last little bit of life keeping you alive spread of warmness across of your face. The wind that was close to freezing and the chills that swept over your body couldn’t compare to the heat in your face. For a moment it makes a smile grace your lips, but it disappears as fast as it came.

It was beautiful in its own way but no one needed it. You didn’t need it anymore.

You take one last glance up at New York to take in the breathtaking sight of lights contrasting againstthe blackness of the night sky. The sight always did take your breath away, even during the daylight.

“Well,” you mumble, eyes drifting to the ground again. “Here goes.”

You wipe away the tears from your eyes and cheeks to gain some composure. Your hands fall to your sides, wet with regret and clenched tight. Just as youget your foot lifted from the ledge, a voice calls out in the dead of silence, breathtakingly broken.

“Wait! You don’t have to do this!”

The breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding releases from your chest as you whip around to find the person who had stopped you from stepping off. There you find Spider-Man a few feet away, hands held out and the white of his eyes wide.

Your face twists into a grimace when he steps forward, as if approaching a wild animal that’s easily spooked.

“Of course Spider-Man shows up the day I decide to take a leap off my apartment building,” you laugh bitterly, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Why... why are you about to jump off?” He asks, voice so quiet you have to strain to hear.

Your clench your jaw at his innocent question. If he wanted to know, then why would it hurt to tell him?

No, he didn’t deserve to know.

“I’m done. That’s all there is to it,” you start, eyes narrowing. “I don’t have the energy to care anymore. Why are you trying to stop me anyway? You don’t know me.”

“I’m sorry,” he speaks, voice so soft and gentle it makes you melt.

He’s getting closer the longer you talk. His hands are still held out, like he’d catch you if suddenly fell. You knew he could catch you no problem. Why was he acting like he cared about you?

“Tell me. Tell me why,” he inquires. “Give me a good reason why I should let you fall. Let me relate to you.”

“None of this is your business! You don’t know me or what’s it’s like to be someone like me. God, you’re a superhero who probably has every bit happiness in the world! How could you possibly want to relate to me in any way?” You shout at him, voice on the brink of crumbling.

The whites of his eyes relax and one of his hands drop, but he isn’t moving towards you anymore. One of his hands is still offered, and he’s close enough to touch fingertips with you if you were to reach out.

“I’ll never know what it’s like to be you. But I know what’s it’s like to want to die... or hurt yourself on the outside to try to kill the fear on the inside,” he takes another step, watching as your fiery expression morphs into someone in pain, tears swelling to the surface.

“Let me help you. I care.”

The whole dam breaks as the words spill from his lips. You gravitate towards him, hand slipping into his offered one, and he pulls you into his chest. You don’t object, burying your face into the fabric of his suit and crying your heart out. His hands hold you close, one pressing to your back and rubbing gently while the other tangles into your hair at the back of your head.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” he whispers into your ear, so familiar sounding as he holds tight.

“I will never understand why you would want to care about someone like me... but thank you,” you manage to choke out between sobs.

It seems like an eternity before you pull away, trying to dry the tears running down your face. Your savior in spandex is hesitant to let go but let’s you shuffle back, sniffling.

“Where do you live? I’ll take you home to make sure you’re okay,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“Here. I live in this apartment building.But you can walk me down if you’d like,” you answer with a stuffy chuckle at his shyness.

“Of course,” he says, grabbing your hand.

Like he says, he gets you safely back to your room, holding your hand the whole way there. That little moment on the rooftop has you weeping on the inside at his kindness; the kindness you wish everyone had.

It was easy to slip into your room since your parents were practically never home to take care of you. You didn’t find it shocking to see him slide up your bedroom window to jump out.

“Do you have anyone who can stay here with you for tonight? Not to be rube but I don’t exactly trust you with being alone right now,” he turns to face you as you sit down on your bed.

“My crush lives in this building but I don’t want him seeing me like this,” you avert your eyes.

“Who is he?” He hums, grabbing your shoulder.

A sigh escapes you at his persistence. “Peter Parker. Dorky kid with the sweetest smile.”

Spider-Man, the person who just stopped you from committing suicide, reels back at your answer and stumbles over his own feet as he makes his way towards the window. You snort at his clumsiness.

“A-ah, uh, I know him. Through his Stark Internship! Yeah... I’ll just... send him over,” he murmurs the last part under his breath.

You don’t say anything as he begins to climb out of your window, sticking to the glass like he wasn’t human. His head pokes back through to gaze at you, probably smiling under his mask.

“Please take care of yourself,” he says one last time before bouncing off the side of the building and swinging away.

It isn’t longer after that when you get a knock on you door. Your heart drops when you open the door to be faced by a kind smile, crinkled brown eyes and soft chestnut curls. Compared to the dark circles under your eyes and the tear stains on your cheeks, he was an angel.

“A certain spider told me you needed a friend right now,” he says softly, holding up a bags of ice cream and sodas. “So I brought some snacks and a little cheer along with it.”

You can’t help but grin at the sight. “That means a lot.”

The rest of the night is followed by watching movies, eating ice cream, crying on his shoulder and explaining why you felt the way you did, and ended with you falling asleep in Peter’s lap.

Peter never once took his eyes off of you. Even after you had fallen asleep. He continued to play with your hair and press subtle kisses to your forehead until the sun started to rise.

How he never noticed your obvious pain at school was beyond his comprehension. You always wore the biggest smile in chemistry class and during lunch. Guilt was one of many things that hammered his chest when he saw you about to take a step off that building. Why in the world had he never noticed your suffering?

“I won’t let you feel alone ever again. You have me,” he had said, hands cupping your face then leaning in to kiss you. 

Waking up to find someone caring for you was a nice change. He cared, and he was all you would ever need. 


	5. Spider Obsessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »Prompt  
> Had a sudden idea, what about one where the reader is actually obsessed with spiders, everything about them their species, habitats, diets, biology the whole nine, and Peter listens to her rant about it from time to time, but after he becomes spiderman reader's obsession gets even more manic wondering what other abilities spiderman has and how they work (comparing them to different species of spiders) and trying to figure out who spiderman is so they can ask. (up to you if they do find out or not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly sure if I like this but let’s go with I do? 
> 
> Universe is set in the new Spider-Man game. 2018 Peter needs more love.

“I can’t find it!”

Peter watches as you scramble around your room in search of your latest research paper. His lips are curved into a mischievous smile which you happen to not notice. You finally give up and flop down on your bed with a groan into your bedsheets.

“Give up?” Peter’s voice mocks.

You turn your head in his direction to glare at him. Instead, your face lights up to see your research paper in his hand. His eyes are skimming along the written lines, stroking his chin.

“This is impressive, I must say,” he says in a fake posh accent, nodding his head.

You shuffle from the comfort from your bed and rip the paper from his hands, nose crinkling. He leans back in his chair, looking up at you with his famous Parker grin. If this didn’t happen every weekend, you probably would have melted on the spot.

The boy had his charms.

“Ha ha,” you respond with a sarcastic laugh, “Tell me what you’re really thinking, Peter.”

“I think you’re obsessed,” he tosses his head back, eyes closing.

You scoff and head back over to your cluttered desk. After securing the research paper in your favorite folder, you turn back around to face your boyfriend with arms folded over your chest. He can only manage a smile, although cheeky.

“Well, it kind of is my job, you know,” you shrug with a huff.

“You’ve been obsessed with spiders since, what? Since I met you?” He raises a brow at you.

You roll your eyes, lips curled and eyes crinkled, but make your way over to him despite his picking. His eyes narrow when you sit down in his lap and loop your arms around his neck. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, mind you, but you never usually give him affection after he made fun of you for a good while.

“Oh, look at me, I’m Peter Parker. I like biomechanics and science and everything super complicated,” you mock, dropping your voice to match his pitch to the best of your ability.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” He retorts, arms tightening around you.

“Actually, I do,” you bat your eyes at him.

The brown-eyed-cutie hums, a slight shake to his head at your ridiculousness, and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. You relish the moment, a faint blush blooming over your cheeks.

“Alright, tell me what you’re researching this time. If you can listen to my nerd talk, I’ll listen to yours,” Peter sighs, his smile barely visible on his mouth.

“For real?” You gape up at him, excitement brewing in your veins.

“For real. Let it all out. I know you want to,” he laughs as you start to squirm in his lap.

You straddle his lap and press your hands to his chest, eyes shining. All the pent up thoughts come flowing out of your mouth and your loving boyfriend listens with his full attention. His soft brown eyes never leave your face, nor his hands from your hips.

“Okay, so you know how I’ve been trying to unravel the mystery of Spider-Man’s identity? I’m giving that up for now. The lab is questioning what kind of spider he could be related to the most. For us to do that, well, that means I have to meet him. I would usually take the opportunity to unmask him but there are other things that need to be taken care of first,” you sigh, digging your teeth into your bottom lip.

“Why would they want to know what kind of spider Spider-Man is related to?” Peter asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Spidey has been around for about eight years and he always manages to come out of battles unscathed. From what we see, of course. That means he has to have some kind of enhanced healing ability. If we could find out which spider in particular he’s related to, maybe we could engineer some sort medication to help people heal at a faster pace,” you tap your fingertips across his chest.

“That’s possible?” Peter breathes, practically speechless.

“Maybe? It’s a long shot, honestly. The only way to have any sort of chance to do is to get some of Spider-Man’s blood. That in itself would put his identity at risk. I can’t do that to him, even though I want to know who he is so badly it’s killing me on the inside. I guess my job is to observe him from afar for now. I could try to theorize which spider he might be related to but the whole thing might be useless,” you end with a sloppy, crooked grin.

No matter how bleak things looked you never gave up. Your cheery attitude was one of the things that attracted Peter to you in the beginning. That and the fact you never shut up about arachnids. Spider this, spider that. Books of their species, inner workings, their habitats and all of the above pile high in your room pretty much all the time. You take no shame in it, either.

Being Spider-Man was one thing but listening to a girl ramble about literal spiders set Peter’s heart aflame. It was year after meeting you did he confess you were the strangest, most confusing woman he’d ever met and wanted to take you on a date. It wasn’t much later that your boyfriend talked to his boss and got you in with a small time lab trying to accomplish big things. Your big breakthrough was when a reporter and journalist, Mary-Jane Wattson, came to your door and asked if she could have an interview with you.

People around Manhattan refer to you as the “Crazy Spider Lady” and you take pride in it. Peter does his tinkering with biomechanics, you research and journal. In the long run, both of you are working to make the world a better place.

If you weren’t so hellbent on finding out who Spider-Man is then maybe you could focus more on work. More than you already do. But will you ever stop? No. Probably not.

“If all else fails, we trash the whole project. No biggie,” you play with the collar of Peter’s plaid shirt.

“What if you did meet Spider-Man?” Peter asks, cupping your face with one hand.

Your face burns at the question. “Probably freak out. Spiders have been my thing since I was small. Meeting Spider-Man would unleash chaos. I would have a nerd attack.”

A chuckle bubbles up Peter’s throat as he tugs you close to his chest. You cuddle into his warmth with no protest. It was the rare moment like these that made your day, no matter how exhausting. You wish he could be around more.

“You’ll figure it out. You always do,” he kisses your forehead.

“Well, I guess it’s your turn. How have you and Dr. Octavius been doing? Make any breakthroughs?” You murmur into his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

His chest rises with an answer but gets interrupted by Peter’s phone ringing. He fishes it from his pocket and presses it to his ear. It isn’t long before you’re climbing off his lap and he’s rushing out of the door.

“I have to run! But I’ll see you later, okay? Love you,” he gives you one last kiss on the lips before bolting.

You watch him leave, a frown bleeding into the creases of your face. It was the worst moments that he had to leave. You hated that he never told why he needed to leave so suddenly all the time, but the question never got past your thoughts. If he wanted to tell you, he would. Simple as that.

Before your thoughts get too out of hand, you get back to your research. You would give Peter a call to check up on him later.

———————

The night sky closed in and you made the decision to call it quits for the day. Peter hadn’t come back or given any indication he would be back anytime soon.

You decide not to dwell on it and take a shower. After pampering yourself and taking the time to look the way you do, you lay down in your bed with a satisfied sigh. Your eyes trail over to your phone set on the nightstand, lips pursed.

It wouldn’t hurt if you gave him a call.

The phone slips into your hand and you go to your contacts. A smile graces your mouth when seeing Peter’s contact picture. It wasn’t much - him smiling at the camera, but there’s something about the soft color of his eyes and the curve of his lips that makes you swoon.

A knock on your window snaps you from your lovesick trance. You take no time to question who could be at your window, though it does confuse you that someone would climb up twenty flights of stairs of the fire escape to surprise you. You trot over to your window and pull back the curtains.

“Gah!” You stumble back with a yelp at seeing the figure on the other side of the glass.

Spider-Man is outside your window. Why is he outside your window?

His red, blue and white spandex suit gleams against the orange glow of city lights. The eyes of his mask narrow when all you do is stand there, frozen in place. You can’t tell if he’s smiling or scowling.

“Are you going to open the window?” He gives a muffled chuckle, scratching at his clothed cheek.

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water for a few more seconds before you suck in a sharp breath and slide the window open with trembling hands. The cool night air invades your room like fog in a grave yard but you don’t feel its cold bite. Your whole body is on fire.

The man perched at your window holds out his hand for you to take. “A little birdie told me to come see you. I would introduce yourself but you already know who I am.”

“I lied to Peter. This is the total opposite of what I said I would do if I met you,” is all you can manage to say, all in a hushed whisper.

All he does is laugh at your reaction, hand retracting and falling over his leg. His chest bounces as he laughs. You’re not sure if it’s at you or if he’s trying to relieve tension.

“I’ve heard of you more than a few times. Crazy lady obsessed with the spiders, right?” He tries to make conversation again, head tilted at you.

“Even Spider-Man thinks I’m crazy? You have got to be kidding me!” You throw your hands up in exasperation.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you’re doing something worthwhile. May be a bit weird that spiders are involved with making the planet a better place, but props to you anyway,” he says, genuine.

“Do you mind if I ask a bunch of awkward questions in hopes to help the world?” You inquire with a squeak.

“Why would it be awkward?”

“Because you’re Spider-Man and I’m studying spiders. You see the problem?” You motion between you both, wincing.

“Would you be more comfortable if I took off the mask?” He asks, hooking a finger under the flap of his mask.

“Wait, you’re not going to do that, right? Oh my god you’re actually doing it!” You clasp your hands over your eyes, shielding your vision as the mask is ripped off.

All these years pondering on who Spider-Man is was about to be solved. Finally. So why were you hiding your eyes? You didn’t know. Maybe it was because you had to bare the responsibility of keeping his secret, or maybe you didn’t want the chase to be over yet. You loved the thrill of the hunt.

The timid pat of footsteps to you makes your body tense. Two hands curl around your wrists and pry your hands away from your face. The moment seemed all too intimate and you keep your eyes squeezed closed.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” The unmasked hero murmurs.

You crack open one eye, although having to grit your teeth to do it. The familiar brown eyes, tussled hair and gentle curve of lips makes the color drain from your face. Studying spiders is cool and all but dating a literal spider is next level. Your heart stops when the smile you had fallen in love with kisses at your forehead.

“Ask anything you want. You have questions, I have answers,” Peter says, voice low.

Sweat beads down your forehead, pale and colorless. All you can do is laugh.

“Hah—“

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you hit the floor with a painful thud.


	6. Worth The Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »Prompt  
> Everyone has the name of their soulmate written on their wrists. You happen to have the name Spider-Man written on yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2018 ps4 Peter Parker with fluff sprinkled on top. You’re welcome.

When you were a child you never thought about the name on your wrist being unusual in any way.

You merely accepted it as it was.

It was in middle school that you began to realize it wasn’t normal. Everyone had common names inked into their skin, ones that didn’t get made fun of for that matter. You made the mistake the first day in fourth grade to boast about your beloved Soulmates name. Some thought that you were joking, some teased you about it. That day ended up with you scribbling a marker over the name seared into the soft skin of your wrist and crying your eyes out. It took lots of persuading from your parents to calm you down and convince you that everything would work out in the end.

You never revealed your wrists to anyone after that, not even family members. You were never seen without the bulky rubber bracelet that hid your soulmates name, and that alone gave your school enough to talk about. The kids that remembered the day you boldly presented the name to them spread it around the halls, though no one who wasn’t there believed them. They wanted proof yet you never showed up to class without some kind of coverage.

After graduating and finishing college, you decided to move to New York to pursue a better career. It was by this time that you barely acknowledged the name tattooed on your wrist. Living your life was more important than hunting someone down with the name of some cheap knockoff superhero.

When you got to New York all seemed well. You moved into a smalltime apartment with cheap rent and settled down in the city comfortably. It was when reading the Daily Bugle papers, overhearing conversations on the streets and scrolling through his personal page online that it all came hitting you harder than a titanium baseball bat in the face.

Spider-Man was the wild, brightly colored hero around the city and the Daily Bugle made sure that everyone knew it. They made him out to be a criminal, no less, but everyone knew about him. Whether they liked it or not. Apparently he’d been around for more than eight years to count, and people still loved and hated him as much as he first showed up. J. Jonah. Jamenson made sure to squander the name of New York’s protector.

You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel. Relieved, maybe. Angry at the people who belittled him so often, but still relieved nonetheless. He was an actual person who’s name probably wasn’t actually Spider-Man. That made you feel better in some ways, but you mostly steered clear of him for the most part. If it was meant to be, then it would be. You weren’t going to waste time and energy on a guy who you catch glimpses of out of the corner of your eye. While you couldn’t contain the flutter of your heart when he swung by, nothing would get in the way of you living your life to the fullest without him.

You were curious about his looks, personality, his normal life in general. Fate destined you with him, so you would love him with your whole heart no matter what. You would also attack him for all the years of humiliation. Every bit of pent up frustration and ache in your chest would release into a storm the first chance you got.

At least that’s what you thought.

———————

The smell of old books and fall scented candles morphs into the tasteless aroma of New York as you step out of the library. People spare you no glance as you shuffle your feet from the cold and adjust the borrowed books in your arms, vapor from your breath puffing out in a cloud.

A faint hum leaves your lips as you join in with the crowd of people walking back to apartment which isn’t but a block away. You stop when a crosswalk is red, cross when it’s green. Same old routine, same old you.

You had been weary of the tsunamis of people in New York your first few weeks moved in. They pushed and shoved and weren’t afraid to insult you for the pettiest things. You probably apologized more in those two weeks than you had your whole life. It was when a carton of milk had been shoved out of your hands and hit the sidewalk did you finally lose your temper. The guy who’d knocked the milk from your hands proceeded to scold you for getting it all over his black dress shoes. You got red in the face, eyes narrowed, then exploded into a shrieking maniac. The poor man was colorless in the face by the time you had calmed down, and the bystanders were gaping with wide eyes or impressed smirks.

A slow smile crawls up your face from the memory as you turn a corner into your neighborhood. Less people crowded the streets, maybe a few trying to get back home for the day. You rummage around in your pocket for your phone when it begins to vibrate. Before you can successfully fish it from your pocket, you’re snatched into a nearby alleyway.

You hit the ground with a grunt, clutching into your books in desperation. Three thugs, all the same height, linger on each side of you as you take a stand. They don’t miss the dangerous gleam in your eyes.

“Give us everything valuable and we’ll leave,” one of them says, voice rough.

You purse your lips, eyebrows raising, and pat down the back of your pants. Adrenaline was gushing through every vein under your skin and fear was sinking into your gut. You had taken precautions to ensure that if you ever found yourself in this type of situation, you would be ready. Only this time you happen to forget your pepper spray on the kitchen table. You wouldhave to make due another way, though you weren’t too sure of this option.

“How about I don’t,” you reply monotonously.

The men all exchange looks of amusement. They all share a chuckle or two before the one who threatened you pulls out a gun. Your mind is screaming at the barrel aimed at your forehead but you make no moves.

“Real funny. Now hand everything over like a good girl,” he growls, finger clenching on the trigger.

“No,” you blink, seemingly unamused, “You’re going to have to make me.”

Without hesitation, the one holding the gun drops his guard and roughly grips your forearm. The books tucked into your arms hit the pavement. Your face twists into a sneer as your hand hooks around the collar of his hoodie and your knee driving into his stomach. He loses his breath, dropping his gun at the contact, and you reel your leg back only to swing your shoed foot into his shin.

You can only think of death soon to come as the guy stumbles back, out of breath and clutching his shin to stop the pain. The other two cut eyes at you, both approaching you with fists ready. You swallow down the bile rising up your throat, taking a few steps back to bolt from the scene. If you could get to a more populated area, you’d be safe.

“Now is that a way to treat a lady?”

You and your attackers look to where the voice came from, but while you take the time to let your lips curl into a smile at your rescuer, the thugs start to scramble away in realization. They don’t make it too far before they’re pinned to the concrete by sticky webbing. You do wince at the contact of your rescuer’s fists to their faces beforehand.

“Well you have impeccable timing, I must say,” you sigh in relief, picking up your books from the dirty alley floor, “Nice to finally meet you, Spider-Man.”

The hero walks over, scanning you for any injuries before nodding. “You okay?”

“Can’t say I’m not a little shook up, but I’ll be fine,” you wipe away the sweat on your forehead, smiling brightly.

His tense shoulders relax at your smile, and it makes you melt on the spot knowing he cared for your wellbeing despite not knowing you at all.

“Good to know. I better go before the cops get here. They aren’t too friendly towards me,” he starts to back away, hands out.

You freeze to your spot, a lump forming in your throat. This could be the moment you tell him about, well, everything. If you let him leave, when would you get the chance again? Would you ever get the chance again? You had the take the chance while you could, though it make your bones rattle in uncertainty.

“Actually, you might want to come with me,” you blurt out, causing his footsteps to halt.

“Why? Is something wrong?” He asks, voice dipping in concern.

“It’s more like I have information you might want to know,” you scratch the back of your neck, averting your eyes.

You inwardly groan at your awkwardness. This was your soulmate, your future. Why did you feel the need to look away?

“It’ll only take a minute. I promise,” you assure.

The bug eyes of his mask narrow and he stays uncharacteristically quiet before agreeing, although hesitant. You point him to your apartment rooftop, a safe place to exchange conversation and a sure way to let him know he won’t be ambushed. You tell him you’ll take the elevator but he hooks his arms around your waist, tight but comfortable, and swings you instead.

You both reach the rooftop and he sets you down gently. It takes all your willpower to let him go. He was warm and though he was probably sweaty under the suit, he didn’t smell dirty. You enjoyed being that close to him, especially in the cold air.

You set down your books, fear bubbling in your chest. His gaze is heavy when you meet his eyes, lips pursed tightly. He’s perplexed, seeing as his head is tilted to the right as he waits for you to continue.

“I didn’t expect to be so nervous or awkward,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, “I guess I’ll get to the point since I know you’re busy.”

“I’m nervous and I don’t have a reason to be,” he shrugs, soft laughter following, “Go ahead. I don’t bite.”

The anxiety in your gut wrenches around you heart and squeezes tight. All the air in your lungs is suddenly heavy. Unbearably heavy.

“You’re... I’m...” you struggle to get the words out, tongue tied.

“I’m your soulmate!” You bellow out, face flushed red.

The hero in spandex stares at you wide eyed before sighing deeply, hands catching his face. “You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that. Look, I’m flattered-“

“I have proof,” you cut him off, stepping forward in desperation.

Your fingers fumble with the bracelet around your wrist, bottom lip buried under your teeth. His eyes pick you apart and put you back together again. The heat in your face bleeds over to your ears.

“No one knows my real name. No one knows who Spider-Man is under the mask. How do you know?” He questions, closing the gap between you both.

The closeness is foreign but you make no attempt to pull away. You move closer so your chests are near touching. Heat is rising off your exposed skin in the chilly air as small streams of steam, barely visible to the eye. The masked vigilante’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, just as anxious as you are. That in itself calms the internal screaming.

“I don’t,” you breath out, staring up at him hopelessly.

Before he can ask anymore questions, because you know he wants to, you peel back the hardy bracelet from your wrist. You hold out your wrist for him to inspect, eyes averted and head down. His hands grasp your wrist and his index finger runs over the ink, cradling your hand like you’re made of glass. 

“You’re (Y/n)?” He voice comes out like a hushed whisper.

“That’s me,” you confirm, chuckling, “I went through hell because of this, you know. I hope you’re worth it. Having Spider-Man on my wrist isn’t normal.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t get my real name,” he tears his gaze away from the name on your wrist to meet your timid eyes.

“Neither do I,” you say in a mumble.

You gasp when his arms encircle your waist and squeeze tight, pulling you flush against him. His hug is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. You don’t know if you’re being suffocated or bear hugged but you never want him to let go.

“I suppose I have to show you my face now? And tell you my real name?” He pulls back enough to get a good look at the smile blossoming across your face.

“No, Spidey,” your fingers fiddle with the spider logo on his chest, “You can do that when you feel ready. We have all the time in the world.”

“I think I love you already,” his laugh, as sweet as syrup, trickles into an adorable snort.

His own snort causes you to snort and the both of you end up laughing, clutching to each other like the world was ending. While it wasn’t exactly how you imagined it to go, you were much happier with this alternate ending. All of him was yet to be revealed and you still find yourself over the moon.

Yeah. He was worth the wait.


	7. Two-In-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »Prompt  
> Spider-Man kisses you - ends up being your two crushes in one. All is well until your best friend shows up to ruin the fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been watching The Spectacular Spider-Man and thought this Peter needed more love. 
> 
> It’s short, cliché and horribly written but that doesn’t make my love for this bean any less greater.

“Do you want marshmallows in your hot chocolate?” 

“Heck yeah I do. Who doesn’t?” 

A faint laughs leaves the kitchen and travels into your room where you shimmy out of the window. Your hero in spandex helps you out onto the ledge of the house roof, making sure you don’t spill the two beverages you took the precious time to make. 

“Why don’t we do this more?” You ask with a chuckle, settling down with crossed legs by your spider friend. 

The hero relishes the warmth from his mug before answering, although snarky like always. “Well, I mean, hot chocolate is usually meant to be enjoyed during the winter and it’s the end of summer so—“

“No! I meant why don’t we hang out more?” You nudge him with a chuckle. 

“We hang out every day,” he turns to stare at you with his bug eyes. 

“Not for long enough,” you mumble into your mug as you take a sip of your hot beverage. 

All that you hear is a faint sigh, muffled by his mask. You glance at him from the side of your eye, taking in the way his shoulders have hunched at your comment. His hands are clenched around his mug but his thoughts seem to be elsewhere. 

“I know. Crime never sleeps, though. I have to protect the city,” he scratches his cheek. 

“You do realize that the city managed just fine before you came along, right?” You nudge his side, eyebrow quirked and lips curled into a frown. 

His doesn’t retort anything back and curls the bottom half of his mask up instead. He takes a long, savoring sip of warmth from his beverage and you have to avert your eyes to keep yourself from staring too hard. 

Something about him sets your whole body on fire. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, his caring nature, or something else entirely. While this wasn’t your first time to see his mouth and jawline, it never failed to make tingles shoot up your arm and into your trembling fingertips. You two have known each other for the whole summer and then some. It was pretty obvious that you’d grown a relatively ginormous crush on the guy. 

It was stressful at first. You liked someone else at the same time. It felt like cheating, in a way. You tried not to dwell on it and pushed those feelings aside to focus on more important matters. Those feelings kept bubbling up despite your efforts, and it was then that you decided to never act on them. Ever. If they decided to yank your chain, only then you would embrace it fully. 

Peter and Spidey never were good with girls, said by both of them at different times. They seemed to keep to themselves and never noticed your blossoming affections. It hurts but relieves you at the same time. Sometimes the best thing to do is sit back and admire. 

You do a lot of admiring in your free time. This free time gives you the suspension to think that maybe the two people you liked were the same. But as soon as the thought had crossed your mind, you scrapped it just as fast. Nothing worked out that well. Especially for you.

“You shouldn’t stress yourself out like that, dude. I know everyone probably tells you that but I mean it. Put too much stress on your body and you might have a malfunction,” you purse your lips at his perplexed head tilt. 

“Actually, nobody tells me that,” he answers truthfully, voice timid, “Everyone is too busy trying to kill me or put me in jail.”

The brokenness hidden under the stiff tone of his voice makes your heart melt into a puddle. You set down your mug to the side, making sure it wouldn’t get knocked off the roof, then lean over and embrace the hero tightly. His body stiffens under your delicate touch but you stay latched on, face buried into his rising and falling chest. 

“You always have me. Not knowing who’s under the mask doesn’t change anything,” you shuffle back enough to gape at his face. Not that you can tell what his expression is. 

One of his hands find your back and pulls you closer. His head falls on top of yours and you soak up the physical contact in the rare moment that this happens. You have to remind yourself that he’s only human despite what he does. Having enhanced strength doesn’t mean he can handle the swelling of unhealthy emotions by himself. 

“I’ve been thinking about that, actually,” his hands clench and unclench with anxiety, breath hitching in his throat when you pull away, face twisted with curiosity. 

“About taking off your mask?” You question, chewing on your bottom lip to contain a smile. 

“I mean, well, yeah. Yeah. About taking off my mask,” he confirms with a nod, but you can tell he’s still unsure about it. 

“Spidey, you don’t have to. I’m perfectly fine with how we are now,” you catch his shoulder with your hand, giving a squeeze to reassure him. 

“But I’m not,” he says, setting his mug to the side and turning to face you, “I just... don’t want to keep this secret to myself anymore. Not between us.”

“That’s your choice, but I will admit I have been dying to know the face under the secret identity,” you brush back a strand of hair from your eyes, excitement bubbling in your chest. 

His mouth opens but shuts again before any words can get out. You raise a brow at him, amused at the situation he put himself in. The slightest bit of exposed skin is glowing red with a blush, probably hot to the touch. A soft laugh escapes you and causes him to flinch. 

“You’re turning as red as your mask. Don’t hurt yourself,” you poke at the spider logo on his chest, nose crinkled and smile crooked. 

His hands cup your face, trembling and overly warm, but that doesn’t stop the grin on your face from dropping into an expression of pure, heart-racing panic. The question of ‘what are you doing?’ is dancing on the tip of your tongue before being brushed away by his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss. 

The kiss itself doesn’t last long but it leaves your head spinning. When he pulls back, all you can manage is a few struggled grunts of things that make no sense. It takes a few minutes for your brain to catch up. 

“Did- did you just... did you just kiss me?” You stumble over your words, all jumbled together in a whisper.

“I might have,” he slurs slightly, hands falling to his lap, “You still want me to take off the mask?”

Your own hands find his jaw and grasp his face tenderly, stroking the soft skin under his cheekbone before tugging him into another kiss. The sound that comes from his throat is a mix of a surprised squeak and something similar to a groan. Your hands eventually wander from his face and around his neck where your fingers curl into the fabric of his mask. He doesn’t object or push you away when the mask slides off into your hand. 

You pull away with your eyes squeezed closed, though you can still feel the softness of his lips on yours. You crack open one eye, biting on your bottom lip in anticipation, but the grin that lights up your face can be seen from miles away at seeing who hadn’t been behind the red and blue colors.

“I knew it!” You shout, eyes lighting up like a thousand stars and leaning into the mask sitting in your palm, “I knew Spider-Man acted too much like Peter Parker! Now I know why you’re always disappearing.”

Peter rubs the back of his neck with averted eyes, face and tips of his ears darkening by the second. “So you’re not disappointed?” 

“Disappointed? No, far from it,” you lean it and press a chaste kiss to his mouth that causes his whole body to jolt. 

“So does this mean I can stop being Spider-Man to get close to you?” He inquires with a laugh, his hand finding yours. 

“You should have been yourself from the beginning,” you roll your eyes, leaning into the comfort of his embrace. 

Before you two can lip-lock again, the sound of a car door slamming closed and feet shuffling against the pavement catches your attention. You peer over the edge of the roof to find Gwen scanning the house, confusion apparent on her features. You practically tackle Peter to the roof when she takes a glance up. She must have seen you two when driving up. 

While relatively good at school, math just wasn’t your strong suit. If it weren’t for Gwen, you might have failed multiple tests by now. You’re grateful for her as she’s a blessing all the time, but how had you forgotten the study date you took time to plan?

“(Y/n), what are you doing on the roof? Did I just see you and Spider-Man kissing...?” Her question trails off but you get the jist of why she’s speechless. Not that you can blame her. 

Peter scrambles to pull his mask back on, and when he finally gets the cloth to fit over his head, it ends up being backwards. You lean over with a timid smile, knowing she’d be asking lots of questions later. How Peter managed to keep his face hidden is a mystery. 

“Uh, maybe?” You shrug your shoulders which makes her cross her arms. 

“Definitely,” Peter leans over with you, mask on properly but most likely grinning underneath. 

You smack his arm, earning a soft cry from the boy in return. Gwen stares up at you two with an unusual expression. That look in her eye makes your stomach twist. That look meant trouble, especially since Gwen can be overprotective at times. She may be strict but she also loves her friends more than anything, so you deal with her unattractive qualities. 

“I gotta go. See you tomorrow, cutie,” Peter pinches your cheek, cooing at your glare before leaving with a devilish cackle. 

You watch him leave with the urge to flip him the bird while he can’t see. He left you to an unamused Gwen by yourself. That’s the equivalent of getting lost in the woods and finding yourself face to face with a bear. It doesn’t end well.

You nervously chuckle at Gwen’s unbroken stare. “I forgot about our study date.”

“I can see that,” she quips, eyebrows scrunched together, “But I’m willing to let it slide.”

Your face goes slack with skepticism. “Huh?”

“I won’t give you any trouble,” her sour expression melts into a grin that spreads from ear to ear, “If you tell me all about it!”

The excitement you felt a few moments returns and you can’t contain the joyful laugh that leaves your lips. Gwen is bouncing where she stands from anticipation.

“Get up here then! I have a lot to share.”


	8. The Way It Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> »Prompt  
>  What about Peter and reader are roommates and one time reader goes into Peter's room to ask to borrow something and Spider-Man is standing there about to take off his mask?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be any Peter you want but preferably 2018 ps4 Peter Parker cause he perfect.

“Do you need anything else, your majesty?”

A soft laughs resonates from the speaker of your phone. The sound causes your smile to widen.

“I need a serious amount of cash,” Peter replies from the other end.

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I don’t think they give hand-outs here. And don’t even think about asking me for money, Parker. I gave you forty bucks last month and you haven’t paid me back,” you retort with a begrudging tone, though you don’t mean the sound behind the words.

“You said I didn’t have to!” He shrieks, causing you to jerk the phone away from your head, wincing.

“Dude, I was joking,” you laugh at his barely audible grumble, “Now do something with your life until I get back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter murmurs, ending the call whilst mumbling something sarcastic under his breath.

You pocket your phone and continue to finish up your grocery shopping. You end your trip with paying for the candies and junk food Peter demanded he have. The only reason you get him these things on such short notice is because he’s good to you pretty much twenty-four-seven. Not to mention his struggling of trying to help out at F.E.A.S.T and maintaining a job with Dr. Octavius who, in all honesty, doesn’t pay Peter enough for the work he does.

You try your best to pay rent for the apartment you both live in but sometimes it isn’t enough. No telling how many times your landlord has come busting down your door demanding the rest of the money you didn’t have. For that reason alone is why you hardly ever see Peter relaxing. There’s always something to be done, money to be earned. That’s why you like to get him treats from time to time. Not only do they make his day but you also get a part in devouring them.

You’re good to him. That’s all that matters.

After scuffling back to the apartment and struggling to jiggle open the door, you shuffle inside with the excitement of seeing Peter. Except he isn’t home.

“Peter, are you home?” You call out only to get silence in return.

You breathe a huff through your nose before depositing the junk food to the counter of your kitchen. The silence of the apartment grates on your ears so you plop down on the couch and flick on the TV for some reality show comfort until Peter got back from wherever he ran off to.

You channel surf awhile before getting bored and burying your face into the couch with a groan. Peter was here when you left. Why did he always disappear at the worst times? If you didn’t love him with the greatness that you do, you might have strangled him to death by now.

“Fine, I’ll watch a movie without him,” you sit up, face crinkled with a scowl.

You make your way to the horde of movies in your room, smiling at the collection you have piled up. Time speeds by as you start to dig around your overwhelming amount movies only to come up empty handed and longing for a movie you can’t find.

Maybe you leant it to Peter? Wouldn’t hurt to search his room for the movie you rightfully owned. If he got back in time, you two could lounge together and have a movie night.

You pat around from your room to his room with a slight curiosity. Peter usually tells you to keep out of his room because of ‘dangerous projects’ he has scattered around. But in the end, you two live together and he doesn’t mind it every once in awhile.

His bedroom door swings open with a squeak and there you stand, frozen between the door frames, eyes wide. A surprised yelp is caught in your throat, along with a breath in your lungs. Spider-Man, who’s standing in the middle of Peter’s cluttered room, blinks a few times with the bug eyes of his mask, unable to form words. Both of his thumbs are hooked under the flap of his mask and ready to pull the red and black material off of his face. The cloth hadn’t got over the curve of his lips but you can see a strip of his neck.

The two of you stay deadly silent. Noises like honking cars and peoples’ voices from the outside are the only things that are keeping your ears from ringing. His whole frame hasn’t budged from his spot, nor has yours until you can’t take the shock any longer.

“I refuse to ask,” you back away, one hand held up in surrender while the other pulls the bedroom door shut.

You scramble to the kitchen with a need to find something to occupy your mind. So while you wait for either Peter to come out of his room and confirm your suspicions, or Spider-Man to leave your home entirely, you begin to dump the bags of candies into a glass bowl for easier consumption.

It doesn’t take long for Peter’s bedroom door to crack open and meek voice to reel you in. The only thing that keeps you from snatching up a knife is Peter’s timid facial features poking through the door.

“You didn’t happen to see that, did you?” Peter chuckles nervously when you huff with dead in the eye stare.

“You’re kidding,” you squint at him.

Peter sighs at your firmness and opens his door fully, exposing the Spider-Man suit practically suctioned to his body. His face is holding an expression of worry and uneasiness mixed together. While you want to demand answers and bust a gasket, you don’t mind the view of him in a skin-tight suit. Not a bad sight.

“I assume you’re mad I kept it from you?” Peter taps his two forefingers together sheepishly.

“More like I was ready to pull a knife on Spider-Man for breaking into my house,” your hands find your hips, eyes still squinted at Peter who flusters under the intense gaze.

“So... you’re not mad?” Peter’s mouth curls into a hopeful smile.

A heavy sigh leaves your chest at the innocent gleam in his doe eyes. “No, I’m not mad. You’re just stupid.”

“Is this the part where I apologize over and over until you smile?” Peter inquires, causing you to snort.

“This is the part where I ask you billions of questions and you answer them. But since you’ve had a long week, I’ll let it slide for now. Go get cleaned up and we’ll watch a movie,” you motion him to the bathroom, trying to bite back your own smile.

Instead of heading in the direction you point him to, he runs over and engulfs you in a hug. Very unlike him to do so.

“I knew you could never be mad at me,” he coos, smoothing down your hair.

“Don’t push your luck, Parker,” you shove him away, swatting at his hand that’s playing with your hair, “You also own me a swing or two around Manhattan. It’s the least you could do.”

Both of you laugh, causing the semi-serious undertone of the conversation to disappear. You could never stay truly mad at Peter, even if you tried to. Something about him causes you to go soft and melt.

Now that you know his little secret, you might just use some friendly blackmail against him. You’d never actually do it, but Peter worries too much. Using that as leverage is, well, conniving but Peter knew what he was getting into when you offered to let him move in. You both take pride in the bond you two share. However unusual it may be.

You want to keep it like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates! The end of 2018 and the beginning of 2019 has been seriously stressful. 
> 
> As for now, I should be getting back to regular updates. :)


End file.
